In the UK, there has developed a kind of sickening underclass in the last decade.

Economically valueless, they work – when they work at all – in industries that have been rendered more or less obsolete by the march of progress. They are perennially drunk and have loud screechy voices drawing unwarranted attention to their tasteless outfits and rough, bitterness-chiseled faces.

Motivated only by spite, rage and an animalistic lust for undeserved monetary reward, they lazily gorge themselves on a diet of celebrity gossip, fads and irrational fear. They prefer the rule of the mob to that of law. They are criminally ignorant. They breed nasty, unvaccinated, disease ridden children. They lie around at home – producing nothing of value – and dragging the whole intellectual life of our nation into a scuzzy, ugly, acquisitive quagmire with their vile, toxic presence.

They are, of course, Columnists; and to have to read them picking on the working class because some unpaid work-experience girl showed them urbandictionary.com and gave them tenuous permission has been one of this shit decade’s true horrors.

What kind of generation listens to Lily Allen when Lady Sovereign exists? A shit one, that’s what. A bullied generation. A gang of needy, whining victims floating in a sea of their own equally valid opinions.

It’s no good. If you’re among the chattering classes, you’re supposed to feel embarrassed about your background. You’re supposed to know, deep down, that those potent, erect, bastards who intimidated you at the bus stop were right to humiliate and damage your fragile little ego – it is the only justice achievable in an imperfect world. You’re supposed to get over it, realise your limitations and acknowledge that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in St. Cuthbert’s reformed academy of Philosophy. You are not supposed to seize on a bit of playground slang and use it as a means of segmenting and distancing yourself from people you’re scared of. You’re not supposed to be comfortable.

The noughties saw the end of middle class shame, but we needed that shame. It was the only thing that stopped us being insufferable little prigs.

Here, watch Lady Sovereign’s fucking brilliant Hoodie video while punching yourself:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNx1YCIGWQs&feature=related

Tags: chavs, class, journalists, lady sovereign, language, scum, twats, young people

This entry was posted on Sunday, November 15th, 2009 at 12:50 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.